Evening Star Newspaper, September 5, 1896, Page 18

ad a THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1896—TWENTY PAGES, NE DS ONO NOVO: rey se se) Se CIOVCSCMCIOIS ad 2 ress Ga ae nA t I PART I. “A lady to see you, sir.”* I looked up and was at once impressed with the grace and beauty of the person th d to me. “Is there anything I can do to serve sked, rising. me a childlike look, full of can- Jence, as she sat down in the ted out to her. ve so—I hope so,” she earnestly me. “II am in great trouble. I lost my husband—but it is not “It was a death notic that. It ts the slip of paper I found on my dre and which—which—” was trembling violently and her were fast becoming incoherent. I med her and asked her to relate her it happened, and after a few le she succeeded in ntly to respond degree of coherency and self- been married six months. My Holmes. For the last few and and myself have been n apartment house on 39th street, nad not a care in the world, happy till Mr. Holme: an business to Philadelp! ago. Five days later I re- n affectionate letter from him, in » promised to come back the next and the news so delighted me that I ’pted an invitation to the theater from t f mate friends of ours. The next I ly felt fatigued and rose but I was very cheerful, for I expect- | iat noon. And now comes ystery. In the course of stepped to my bureau, De Witt Holmes was lated from ming or under th halluc vlonnade. spell of some led me to paper be- My head, about with not cry out or breathe I stood staring, me rd had not e name was in- ice one of ion of comfort. husband who ts | of the same and wishing to star G nned it on 5 e embraced i ad in my rellef. rejoicing I heard nt, and ru and sob- But in the midst the i ! sight took my breath away ummoning | maid whom I saw hastening toward | | | me from an inner room, I begged her to he telegram and tell me—but I had } i to finish. I saw death in her fac the obituary notice had told nothing but | the truth | The young w! oked with her emo- tions. “paused, recovered herself for the . and then went on. ter show you the telegram.” | = it from her pocket book, she held toward me. I read it at a glance. It simple and direct. at once. Your husband found | dead in his room this morning. Doctors say heart disease. Please telegraph.” <“You see it says ‘this morning,’ she ex- plained. placing her delicate finger on the words she so eagerly quoted. “That means @ week ago Wednesday, the same day on Which the printed sifp recordin was found on my cushion. Do you not see something very strange about this?" I did, and told her so: but before I com- menced the questions by which I hoped to €xtract some explanation of this matter, I desired her to tell me what she had learned in Philadelphia, on her visit there. Her answer was simple and straightfor- ward. “But little more than you find in this telecram. He died in his room. He was found lying on the floor near the bell but- ten,whieh he had evidently ratsed to touch. One hand was clenched on his chest, but his face wore a peaceful look, as if death had come too suddenly to cause him much suffering. His bed was undisturbed: he had @ before retiring, possibly In the act of packing his trunk, for it was found nearly ready for the expressman. Indeed, there was every evidence of his intention | to leave on an early morning train. He | had even desired to be awakened at 6G! o'clock; and it was his failure to respond | to the summon of the bell boy that had | led to so early a discovery of his death. He had never complained of any distress in breathing and we had always considered him a perfectly healthy man; but there was no reason for assigning any other cause than heart failure to his sudden death, and so the burial certificate was made out to that effect, and I was allowed to bring him home and bury him in our “I brought this scrap of print into the house myself.” vault at Woodlawn. But"—and here her earnestness dried up the tears which had been flowing freely during this reci his lonely death and sad burial—‘do think there is something worth investigat- ing in a death preceded by a false ot A DIFFICULT PROBLEM. BY ANNA KATHARINE GREEN. Author of “The Leavenworth Case.” AWONIONE DOC CSCS CIICICS. ary notice? For I found when I was in Philadelphia that no such. paragraph as that | had found pinned to my cushion, had been inserted in any paper there, nor had any other man of the same name ever reg- stcred at the Colonnade, much less died ve you this notice with you?” [ asked. She iramediately produced it, and while 1 glancing {t over, remarked: ome persons would give a sv janation to the whole matter, had reccived a supernatural warning, been satisfied with what they would call a tual manifestation. But I have not a of such folly in my composition. Liv- ing hands set up the type and printed t} words which gave me so deathly a shoc! and hards with a real purpose in them cut it from the paper and pinned it to my cush- fon for me to see when I woke on t! at fatal morning. But whcse hands? That is what I want you to find out.” I caught the fever of her suspicions leng before this and now felt justified in show- ing my interest. First, let me ask,” satd I, “who has ac- to your rooms besides your maid?” ‘9 one; absolutely no one.” ‘And what of her?” ‘Ske 1s innocence itself. She is no com- men housemaid, but @ girl my mother brought up, whe, for the love of me, con- sents to do such work in the household as simple needs requzre.”” I should Ike to see her.” sre is no objection to ycur doing s ou will gain nothing by it. I hav already talked the subject over with her a dozen times, and she is as much puzzled by it as 1am myself. She says she cannot see how any one could have got into my room during my sleep, as the doors were all leeked. Yet, as she very naturally observes, some one must have entered there between the time of my retiring and her entrance in the morning, for she was in my bed rcom herself just before I returned from the theater, and can swear, if necessary, that no such slip of paper was to be seen on my cushion then, for duties led her di- rectly to my bureau, and kept her there for fully five minute: z “And you believed her?” I suggested. “Implicitly.”” “In what direction, then, do your sus- Picions turn?” ces! “A man on the sidewalk put this into my hand.” “Alas! In no directicn. There is the treuble. I doa't know whom to mistrust. It was because I was told that vou 2 izing a clew where othe to find any that I have sought your thi For the uncertainty matter is killing me and ‘Y Sorrow quite unendurable if I cennot obtain relief from it.” I do not wonder,” I began, struck by the note of truth In her tones. “And [ shall certainly do what I can for you. But be- fore we go any further, let us examine this scrap of newspaper and see w we can make out of it. I had already noted two or three points in connection with it, to which I now pro- ceeded to direct her attention. “Have you compared this notice.” I pur- sued, “with such others as you find every in the paper: was her eager answer. “It is not like _all—" ‘ * was my quiet interruption. “ ‘On this day at the Colonnade.’ On what day? The date is usually given in all the bona fide notices I have see “Is it?” she asked, her eyes moist with unshed tears, opening widely in her aston- ment. Look in the papers on your return home and see. Then the print. Observe that ype is identical on both sides, while, there {fs al a perceptible differ- ence between that used in the obituary col- umn and that to be found in the columns devoted to other matter. Notice also," I ued, holding up the scrap of paper between her and the light, “that the align- ment on one side is not exact with that on the other; a di which would not exist if both sides had been printed on a newspaper press. ‘These facts lead me to conclude, first, that the ef- fort to match the t exactly was an oversight on the part of the unknown, and, secondly, that one of the sides, at leas’ presumably that centaining the obituary notlce, was printed on a hand press, on the blank ‘side of a piece of galley proof picked up in some newspaper office. “Let me see.” And siretching out her hand with the utmest eagerness, she took the slip and turned it over. nstantly a change took place in her countenance. She He Cried, Peremptorily: “Present me to your husband!” sank back in her seat and a blush of man- ifest confusion suffused her cheeks. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “what will you think of me? I brought this scrap of print into the house myself and pinned it on the cushion, too. I remember it now. The sight of those words recalls the whole occurrence.” “Then there fs one mystery Icss for us to soive,” 1 remarked, somewhat dryly. “Do you think so?” she protested, with a deprecatory look. “For me the mystery deepens and becomes every minute more serious. It is true that I brought this scrap of newspaper into the house, and that it had then, as now, the notice of my hus- band’s death upon it, but the time of my bringing it in was Tuesday night, and he hs 3 not found dead till Wednesday morn- ing.”” PART II. “It was the recipe, then, and not. the obituary notice, which attracted your at- tention the night before?” “Probably, but in pinning it to the cushion it was the obituary notice that chanced to come up foremost. Oh, why didn’t I remember all this before? Can you understand such forgetfulness concera- ing a matter of such importance?” “Yes,” I allowed, after a momentary consideration of her ingenuous counte- nance. “The words you read in the mor: ing were so startling that they disconnee! ed themselves from those which you had carelessly glanced at the night before.”” “That is it,” she replied; “and since then I have had eyes but for only the one side. How could I think of the other? But who printed this thing and who put it into m hand? He looked like a beggar, but—Oh she suddenly exclaimed, her cheeks flush- ing searlet and her eyes flashing with a feverish, almost alarming glitter. “What is it now,” I asked; “another recollection?” “Yes.” She spoke so low I could hardly hear her. ‘He coughed and. “And what? eing that she was under some new overwhelming emotion. hat corzh had a familiar sound, now that I think of it. It was like that of a friend who—but no, no, that {s mere specu- lation. He ,would stoop to much, but not to that, yet—” The flush on her cheeks had died out, but the two vivid spots which remained showed the depth of her excitement. “Do you think,” she suddenly asked, “that a man out of revenge might plan to frighten me by a false notice of my husbard’s death,. and that God to pun- ish him made the notice a prophecy?” “{ think a man influenced by the spirit of revenge might do almost anything,” I answered, purposely ignoring the latter rt of her question. ‘But I always considered him a good man. At least, I never thought him wick- ed But that is a foolish waste of tim: I encouragingly suggested, and “A discrepancy worth noting,” I remark- ed. “Involving a mystery of some impor— tance,” she concluded. I agreed to that. “And since we have discovered how the slip came into your room, we can now Proceed to the clearing up of this myster: 1 now observed. “You can, of course, in- form me where you procured this stip which you say you brought into the house?" “Yes. You may think it strange, but when I alighted from the carriage’ that night a man on the sidewalk put this tiny scrap of paper into my hand. It was done so mechanically that it made no more im- pression on my mind than the thrusting of an advertisement upon me. Indeed, T zup- posed it was an advertisement, and only wondered that I retained it In my hand at all. But that I did do so, and that in a moment of abstraction I went so far as to pin it to my cushion, is evident from the fact that a vague memory remains of this recipe which you see is printed on the re- verse side of the paper.” Every cther beggar we mect has a cough; and yet,” she added, after a moment's paute, “if it was not_he who gave me this shcck, who was it? He is the only person in the werld I ever wronged." ‘an you not tell me his name?” I sug- gested. “I am in too great doubt. to do bim an injury twice. “You cannot injure him if he is innocent. My methods are very safe.” “tf I could forget his cough! but {t had that peculiar catch in it that I remembered so well in the cough of John Graham. I did vot pay any especial heed to it at the time. Old days and old troubles were far enovgh from my thoughts: but now that my svspicions are raised, that low, chok- ing sound comes back to me in a strangely pers'stent way, and T seem to see a_well- remembered shape in the stooping figure ofthis bexgar. Oh, I hope the gvod God will fcergive me if I atiribute to this disap- pointed man a wickedness he never com- mitted.” “Who is John Graham?” I urged, “and what was the nature of the wrong you did him She rose, cast me one appealing glance, and, seeing that I meant to have her stor: turred toward the fire and stood warmin, her feet before the hearth in such a way as to Lide her face from my gaze. “I was cnce engaged to marry him,” she began. “Not because I loved him, but be- ca We were very poor—I mean my mother and myself—and he had a home and seemed good and generous. The day came when we we Was in the wes I was even dressed for the wedding, w a letter came from my uncle a rich uncle, very rich, who had never had an: thing to do with my mother since her mar- riage, and in it he promised me fortune and everything else desirable in ‘life it 1 would come to him unincum! by foolish t Think of it! And I within half an hour of marriage with a man I had never loved, and now suddenly hated. The temptation I should hate was overwhelming, and, heartless as I may secm, I succumbed to it. Teliing my lover I had changed my mind, I dismisse ' when he came, and annou ‘ F Mr. Graham wus struck dumb, and during the je with my poor, si few days Which intervened before my de- parture I was haunted by his face, which Was like that of a d from some overwhe! shock. But when I was ence free of ‘the town, cspecially after. I arrived in New York, I forgot him. Ever, ng around me so beautiful. Life Was so full of action, and my uncle so de- lighted with me and eve: there was James Holme him—but I cannot each other, and un. new deli member tha de ything I did. Then and when I saw £ that. We loved er the surprise of this nt how could 1 be expected to re- the man I had left behind me in remote world of poverty and paltry ices in which I had ent my youth? She Did Not Dare to Finish. But he did not forget, and blamed me that I did. He followed me to New York, and on the morning I was married found his way into the house, and, mixing with the | wedding guests, suddenly appeared before me just as I was receiving the congratu- lations of my friend I felt ail the terror he had caleulated upon causing, but, re- membering at whose side I stood, I man- aged to hide my confusion under an aspect of haughtiness. This irritated John Gra- ham. Flushing with anger, and ignoring my imploring look, he cried, pe remptorily: ‘Present me to your husband!’ and I pre- sented him. But his name roused no corre- sponding anger in my husband. I had told him of my early experience with man, and John Graham, percetving this, cast me a glance of heart-piercing dis- dain and passed on, muttering between his teeth: ‘False to me and false to him! Your ptnishment will be upon you! And I felt as if I had been cursed.” She stopped here, moved by emotions readlly to be understood. ‘Then, with quick impetuosity, she caught the thread of her stcry and went on. PART II. “That was six months ago; and again I forgot. My -nother dled and my husbard socn absorbed my every thought. How could J dream that this man who was Ittle more than a memory to me, and scarcely that, was secretly planning mischief against me? Yet this paper scrap about which we have talked so much may have been the work of his hands; and even my husband's death—” She did not dare to finish, but her face, vhich was turned toward me, spoke vol- umes. Your husband's death shall be inquired Into,” I assured her. And she, exhausted by the excitement of her discoveries, asked that she might be excused from Ciscussirg the subject any further at present. As I had no wish to enter into this mat- ter any more fully at that time, I readily acecded to her request, aad the pretty widow left me. Obviously the first fact to be settled was whether Mr. Holmes had died from purely natural causes. 1 accordingly busied my. self the next few days with this question, and was fortunate enough to interest the preper authorities sufficiently for them to order the body exhumed and examined, The result was not what I expected. No traces of poison were to be found in the stomach, nor was there any mark of vio- lence to be seen upon the body, nor the ap. pearance of any wound with the exception of a minute prick upon one of his thumbs, @ speck so small that only I was fortunate enough to detect it. He was again interred, the authorities assuring the widow that the do rs cer- tificate given her in Philadelphia was cor- rect. But I was not satisfied, neither, do I think, was she. I was confident that his death was not a natural one, and entered upon one of those secret and ‘prolonged in- vestigations which have constituted the pleasure of my Tife for so many years First, I visited the Colonnade in Philadel pia, and being allowed to see the room in which Mr. Holmes died, went through it carefully. As it had not ‘been used since that time I had some hopes of coming upon-a elve, But it was a vain hope, and the only re- sult of my journey to this place was the assurance I received that the gentleman had spent the entire evening preceding his decth in his own room alone. He had received several letters and one small pack- age while at the hotel, the latter coming by mail. With this ‘one point gained—if it was a point—I went back to New York. Seeing Mrs. Holmts, I asked her if she had sent her husband anything but letters While he was away, and, upon her reply- ing ““No,”’ requestef'to know if in her visit to Philadelphia she had seen anything in her husvand’s rgom which was new to he “For he received package while there,” I explained, “and, though its contents may have been perfectly harmless, it would be well for us to be dssured of this, in pres- ence of the fearful’doubts we both secretly entertain in regard'to his death.” “Oh, you are certain, then — “No,” said I. “{ am far from certain. Indeed, we have no proof at all of h!s hav- ing suffered violence in any way. On the contrary, we are aSsyred that he died from natural causes. Tut the incident of the newspaper slip outweighs the doctor's con- clusions, in my mird, and until the mystery surrounding {t has ‘been satisfactorily ex- plained, by its author, I shall hold to the theory that your husband has been made away with in some strange and seemingly unaccountable way, which we are bound to find out.’” “You are réght! Graham!” She was so carried away by this plain expression of my belief that she forgot the question I had put to her. “You have not told whether or not you fcund anything among your husband's ef- fects that can explain tbis mystery,” I sug- gested. She at once became attentive. “Notaing,” said she. “His trunks were already packed and his bag nearly so. Trere were a few things lying about the room which were put into the latter, but I saw nothing but what was familiar among them; at least, I think not; perhaps we had better look through his trunk and sce. I have not had the heart to open it since I cama back.” As this was exactly what I wished, I said as much, and she led me into a small rcom, against the wall of which stood a trunk with a traveling bag on top of it. Orening the latter, she spread the contents out on the trunk. “I know all these things,” she sadly mur- mured, the tears welling in her eyes. “This?” I inquired, lifting up a bit of coiled wire with two or three little rings dangling from it. “No; why, what is that?” “It looks ke a puzzle of some kind.” “Then it Is of no consequence. My hus- band was forever ‘amusing himself over scme such contrivance. All his friends knew it, and used tu send him every new ene they came across. This one evidently reached him in Philadelphia.” Meanwhile I was eyeing the bit of wire curiously. It was undoubtedly a puzzle, but it had appendages to it that I did not understand, “It is more than ordinarily complicated,” I observed, moving the rings up and down in a vain endeavor to werk them off. “The hetter he would like it,” she sald. I kept on working with the rings. Sud- denly T gave a violent start. A little prong in the handle of the toy had started out and pricked me. “You had better not handle It,” sald I, and laid it down. But the next minute I took it up again and put St in my pocket. The prick made by this treacherous bit of You are right! Oh, John s In or near the same place on my thumb as the one I had noticed on the hand of the deceased Mr. Holme: There was a fire in the room, and before proceeding further I cauterized that prick with the end of a red-hot poker. Then I made my adieux to Mrs. Holmes, and went immediately to a chemist friend’ of min “Test the end of this bit of steel for me, sald I. “I have reason to believe it carries with it a deadly poison.” promised to subject it and let me know the I felt ill, or which, under the ‘cir- st as bad. ext day, ever, I was quite well, with the exception of a certain incony nience in my thumb, But not tll the fol- week did I receive the chemis report. It overthrew my whole theo! had found nothing, and returned me the bit of steel. But I was not convinced. “IT will hunt up th John Graham,” thought I, “and study him.” lowing PART Iv. But this was not so easy a task as it may appear. As Mrs. Holmes possessed no clue to the whereabouts of her quondam lover, I had nothing to go upen in my search for | him, save her rather vague description of his personal appearance and the fact that he was constantly interrupted in speaking by a low, choking cough. However, my natural perseverance carried me through. After seeing and interviewing a dozen John Grahams, with no satisfactory results, I at last hit upon a man of that name who pre- sented a figure of such vivid unrest and showed such desperate hatred of his fel- lows, that I began to entertain hopes of his bemg the person I was in search of. But, determined to be correct upon this point before proceeding further, I contided my suspicions to Mrs. Holmes, and induced her to accompany me down to a certain spot on the elevated from which I had more than once seen this man go by to his usual He Did Not Even Look Up in Pass- ing Us, lounging place in Printing House Square. She showed great courage in joing this, for she had such a dread of him that she was in a state of nervous excitement from the moment she left the house, feeling sure that she would attract his attention and thus risk a disagreeable encounter. But she might have spared hereelf these fears. He did not even look up in passing us, and it was mainly by his walk she recognized him. But she did recognize him; and this nerved me at once to set about the formi- dable task of fixing upon him a crime which was not even admitted as a fact by the authorities. He @ poor man about town, living, to all appearances, by his wits. He was to te seen mostly in the down-town portions of the city, standing for hours in front of rome newspaper office, gnawing at his fin- er ends, and staring at the passersby with a hungry look that alarmed the timid and provoked alms Yrom the benevolent. Need- less to say that he rejected the latter ex- pression of sympathy with angry contempt. His face was long and pallid, his cheek- bones high aud his mouth bitter and reso- lute in expression. He wore neither beard , but made up for their lack abundance of light brown _ hair, which hung very nearly to his shoulders. He stooped in standing, but as soon as he meved showed decision and a certain sort of pride which caused him to hold his head high and his body more than usuaily erect. th all the geod points his appearance was dectdediy sinister, and 1 did not won- der that Mrs. Holm ared hin My next move was to accost him. Paus- ing before the doorway in which he stood, ed him som estion, He je with s Pp ness, but which betrayed ughis had upon tens: own tho 5 the hold which h: | threshold of the neat and homely apart- him. He coughed while speaking, and his eye, which for a moment rested on mine, preduced upon me an impression for which i was nardly prepared, great as my preju- dice against him. There was such an icy composure in it; the composure of an en- venomed nature conscious of its superier- ity to all surprise. As I lingered to study him more close! the many dangerous qualties of the man became more and more apparent to me, and convinced me that to proceed further without deep and careful thevght would be to court fa‘lure where triumph would set me up for life. I gave up all present attempt at enlisting him in conversation, and went my way in as in- qu’ and ‘serious a mood as I had ever been thrown into by any encounter I had ever had with a suspected criminal. In fact, my position was a peculiar one, and the problem I had set for myself wa3 one of unusual difficulty. Only by means of some extraordinary device, such as is seldom resorted to by the police of this or any other nation, could I hope to arrive at the secret of this man’s conduct, and triumph in a matter closed to all appear- ances from any hvyman penetration. But what device? I knew of none, nor did two days and rights of strenuous thought serve to yield me the least ight on the subject. Indeed my mind seemed to grow more and more confused the lorger I usged it into action. I failed to get inspiration indoors or out, and, feeling my health suffer from the constant irrita- tion of my recurring disappointment, I re- sclved to take a day off and carry myself ard my perplexities into the country. I did so. Governed by an impulse which I did not then understand I went to a It Sent Him Staggering Backward. small town in New Jersey and entered the first house on which I saw the sign of “Room to Let.” The result was the most fortunate. No sooner had I crossed ti ment thrown open to my use than it r called a room in which I had slept two years before and in which I had read a little book I was only too glad to remem- ber at this instant. Indeed, it seemed like an inspiration to do so, for, though it wa a simple child’s story written for moral it contained an idea which prom- pe invaluable to me at this junctur, Indeed, I believed myself in this one m ment cf memory to have solved the prob lem that was puzzling me, and, relieve beyond expression, I paid for the night’s lodging I had now determined to foreKo, end returned immediately to New York, having spent just fifteen minutes in the town where I had received this happy in- spiratio: My first step on entering the city to the one which I still believed ans ble for James Holmes’ death. My to learn as far as pos: ham’s haunts and habits. end I had the springs and knew almos as well as he did himself where he was Ukely to be found at al! times of the day and night. ely acted upon this knowledge. slight disguise I repeated my former stroll through Printing Horse Square, looking into each doorway 1. John Graham was in one of s old way at the passiz but ly scemg nothing - images formed by his cwn disordered | ain, A munuscript roll stuck out of | his breast pocket nd, from the way his rervous fingers fumiled it, 1 began to un- derstand the restless glitter of his eyes, which were ull of Weetchedness as any I have ever seen. Entering the doorway where he stood, I dropped at his feet one of the small ste coils with which I was provided. He (id not see it, but, pausing a step or two away, next ‘ble ail of John Gra- At a week's |but it was lght énough for me to notice I directed his attention to it by saying “Pardon me, but did I not see something drop out of your hand?” He started, glanced at the seeming in- offensive toy at which I pointed and altered so suddenly and vividly that it became in- stantly apparent that the surprise I had planned for him was fully as keen and searching a one as I hed anticipated. Re- coiling sharply, he gave me a quick look, then glanced down at his feet es if half ex- pecting to find the object vanished which had startled him. But, perceiving it still lying there, he crushed it vi heel, and, uttering sume Incoh dashed impetuously from the build: Confident that he would ri th impulse and return, I withdre and waited. And, sure enous} hasty a few steps , in less than five minutes he came siinking back. Pick- ing up the cofl with more than sly look, he examined it closely. Suddenly he gave a sharp cry and went staggering out. Had he discovered that the seeming puzzle possessed the same invisible spring which had made the one handled by John Holmes so dangerous? Certain as to the place he would be found in next, I made a short cut to an obscure little saloon in Nassau street, where I took up my stand in a spot convenient for seeing without being seen. In ten minuies he was standing at the bar asking for a drink. “Whisky!” he cried; ‘“‘straight.”” It was given him, but as he set the empty glass down on the counter he saw ly- ing before him another of the steel springs, and was so confounded by the signt that the proprietor, who had put it there at my instigation, thrust out his hand toward him as if half afraid he would fall. “Where did that—that thing come from?” stammered John Graham, ignoring the oth- er’s gesture, and pointing with a trembling hand at the seemingly insignificant bit of wire between them. “Didn't it drop from your coat pocket?” inquired the proprictor. “It wasn’t lying there before you came in.” With a horrible oath the unhappy man turned and fled from the place. I lost sight of him after that for three hours, then I suddenly came upon him. He was walking up and down with a set purpose in his face that made him look more dangerous than ever. Of course I followed him, expecting him to turn toward 59th street, but_at the corner of Madison avenue and 47th street he changed his mind and dashed toward 34 avenue. At Park avenue he faltered and again turned north, walking for sveral blocks as if the fiends were behind him. I began to thik that he was but attempting to walk off his excitemert, when at a sud- den rushing sound in the cut beside us he stopped and trembied. An express train was shooting by. As it disappeared in the tunnel beyond he looked about kim with a blanched face and wandering eye; but his glance did not fall my way, or, if it did, he failed to attach any meaning to my near presence. He began to move on again, and this time toward the bridge spanning the cut. I followed him very closely. In the center of {t he paused and looked down at the track beneath him. Another train was ap- proaching. As it came near he trembicd 1 Own I Felt Sorry for Him. from head to foot, and,- catching at the railing against which he leaned, was about to make a quick move forward, when a puft of smoke arose from below and sent him staggering backward, gasping with ter- Highest of all in Leavening Power.—Latest U.S. Gov't Report 1d_not understand till I saw th smoke had take the form of a spiral was saling away before him in what to his disordered imagination must have looked ike a gigantic coll. It may have been chance and it may have been Providence; but whichever {t wes, it saved him. He could not face that semblance of his haunting thought; and, ng away, he cowered down on the shbor: ng curbstone, where he sat for | several minutes with his head fallen into | his hands; when he rose again he was his own during and sinister self. PART V. Knowing that he was now too much master of his faculties to Ignore me any longer, I walked quickly away and left him. I knew where he would be at 6 o'clock, and had already engaged a tai at the same restaurant. It was 7, however, before he put in an appearance, and by this time he was looking more compose. There was a reckless air about kim, how- ever, which was perhaps only noticeable to me; for none of the habitues of this place was entirely without it, and of all the spots in which I could have s his appearance here was least likely to at- tract attention, wild eyes and unkempt hair being in the majority. I iet him eat. The dinner he ordered was simple and I had not the heart to in- terrupt his enjoyment of it But when he had finished, and came to pay, then I allowed the shock to come. Under the bill which the waiter laid at the side of his plate was the inevit steel coil; and it produced even more than its usual effect. I own I felt sorry for him. He did not dash from the place, huw- ever, as he had from the Hquor saloon. A spirit of resistance had seized him, and he demanded to know where this object of his fear had come from. No one could tell him (or would). Whereupon he began to rave and would certainly have dor himself or somebody else an injury if he had not been calmed by a man almost as wild looking as himself. Paying his bil, but vowing he would never enter the place again, he t out, clay white, and with the swaggering air of a man who has jusi assertcd himself. He drooped, though, as soon as he reach: ed the street, and I had no difficulty in following him to a certain gambiing de' where he gained $3 and lost & From | there he went to his lodgings in West lh street. But late the next day I retur: and rang the be It was alres ned there ly dusk the unrepaired condition of the iron ra. ings on either side of the old stone stoop, | and to compare his abode of decayed grandeur with the spacious and elegant | apartment in which pretty Mrs. Holmes mourned the loss of her young husband r been mal the unhappy John Graham, as he hur- ried up those decayed steps int» the dismal | halls beyond? I did not doubt it. | In answer to my summ there came to the door a young woman, to whom I had but to intimate my w d Graham for her to let me ia with the shor announcement: “Top floor, back room! out; door shu 2 Door open, he’ I lost no time in following thi of her pointing finger, and pre myself in a low attle cham dire uy found | an acre of ro A fir, in the oj grate, and v beams danced on ceiling and cheeriness greatly in contrast " ine room ture of the busine: As they aiso served to lis proceeded to mak» my at home, an drawing up a r, sat down at the fir place in such a way as te conceal my: from Y one entering the door. In le than if ar. n he came He was in a state of high emotion. face was flu: ad nd his eyes Stepping rapidiv forward he flu down on the table in the middle of room with a curse that was half cry an h ‘His burning. | his hat | It Was Another of the Steel Coils. half groan. Then he stood silent and I had an opportunity of noting how haggard he had grown in the short time since I seen him last. But th of his inaction was short, and in a flung up his arms with a loud “curse he that rang througu the narrow room and betrayed the source of his present frenz: Then he again stood still, grating his te and working his hands in a way terribl suggestive of the murderer's instinct. But not for long. He saw something that at- | tracted his attention on the table, a some- thing upon which my eyes had long before | been fixed, and, starting forward with a | fresh and quite different display of emo- tion, he caught up what looked like a roll of manuscript and began to tear it © “Back again! Always back!" he w from his lips, and he gave the roll a t that sent from its midst a email object waich he no sooner saw than he became | speechless and reeled back. It was an- other of the steel coils. “Good God!” fell at last from his stiff and working lips. “Am I mad or has the devil joined in the pursuit against me? I cannot eat, I cannot drinx, but this dia- bolical spring starts up before me. It is here, there, everywhere. The visible sign of my guilt; the—thes” He had stumbled back upon my chair and, turning, saw me. J was on my feet at once, and, seel that he was dazed by the shock of n presence, I slid quietly between him an: the door. The movement aroused him. Turning upen me with a sarcastic smile, in which was concentrated the bitterness of years, he briefly said: “So, I am caught! Well, there has to be an end to men as well as to things, and I am ready for mine. She turned me away from her door today, and after the hell of that moment I don’t much fear any other.” “You had better not talk,” I admonished him. “All that falis from you now will only tell against you at your trial.” He broke into a harsh laugh. “And dc you think I care for that? That havin been driven by a woman's perfidy into} crime, I am going to bridle my tongue anid | keep back the words which are the only | safeguard from insanity? No, no; while my miserable breath lasts I will curse her, and if the halter is to cut short my words, it shall be with her name blistering my lips.” I attempted to speak, but he would rot give me the opportunity. The passion of weeks had found vent 2nd he rushed on recklessly. “I went to her house today. I wanted to see her in her widow's weeds; I wanted to see her eyes red with weeping over a gricf which owed its bitterness to me. But she would not grant me an admittance. She had me thrust from her door, and T shall never know how deeply the iron has sunk into her soul. But——" and here his face showed a sudden change—“shall I not sce her if I am tried for murder? Will she n be in the court room, and shall I not hay the opportunity of meeting her eye to eye “Doubtless,” I began; but his interruption came quickly and with vehement passion. “Ten here Iam. Welcome trial, convic- tion, death, even. To see her once more all I desire. She shall never forget, never “Then you do not d “I deny nothing,” he réturn, out his hands with a gri can I when m everything I touch out the devilish thing which took away the life I hated.” | a } got it. | home to the tie-up, | was in seri Heiena, Mont., at that . small savings bank. Tommy Cruse Sam Ashby.” he got, h s som) free talk, in which ker red Tommy Cr ; Would rather throw | home of his | say or do I asked. __ ff? shook his head. and then, bethinking mself, pointed to the roli of paper which > hed flung on the tabl blar toa a of a poem been with it ! wrong e on th : tone I say, burn it! tha reriain in this mis “Keep to the retorted. “It was while ca ng t er to another th: i print upon the t you yourself printed vhich you the woman from one vou secured that e of which the obituary notie a revenge appointed You know that? Then you kno I got the poison silly toy wha his Life with? “No,” said I, “I do not know where you I merely know it was no co on ‘on, bought at a druggist’s or y 4 o was wo ., ect it S Seer me arything I got w where which I tipped the hat weak man foul away pois ordi m all. 1 t is another never hear from t will compromise a fric all, One drop, bu tion, the delight which threw ese words are heyond tion. ieft but the the twilight room and on gloom the TREED BY A BIG MOOSE. A Maine Boy Will in F Cautious About Stoning From th ire be More tray Cows. Boston Glo years, after t " Clark 1s a stout boy of fourteen He goes out and drives them est iving at Sherman, cows every n ays in th but the ot t he bh. ture which has led to the s of his older brother in the gu prea dan e | kine o' nights. night Jack went own The animals were in the | pas and it was dark almost before he to them. He started them home with re speed, but one lagged in the shadows one at the supp out from u wr wild Jack knew ® round t aw hat made the }erab t bs closer. j hour the big brute w Jumps. Jack came down, ran for home and | told the story s seo Old Tomm From the Cornhill Magazin When I met Tommy first h danger, fed and underbred po for hi sw seized for overdue taxes. I could not help Tommy with his money, but I tried to with advice. “Strike old Sam Ashby fe a couple of hundred dollar: Sam Ashby was one of my Cruse got weeks later Lummond gold - He knew a big thing, but somehow he cc nobody believe In his mine. Fo: od at it, however, iiving fe. ree, whil fell Ss money, ted the gre 1 m a talking to a friend of mine, forward unconscious; he had not eaten a mouthful of food hours, and yet with do: worked on Uil he fell i da he op he d up a big vetn, 1 a miliion dollars to his credit good, safe bank. Har led to pore 0 1 a savin, ik in F men to y to Tommy bar wer, for a small loan was the banker, old Sam Ashby, now pereus. Then came to the old y the happiest moment of his life wiped out all memory of star privation. For Tommy Cru vation and showing his would-be customer to the door, that customer, In language too emphatic and graphic for English ears, that he would sooner throw paper money into the home of his satanic majesty loan ft to such a drunken, sMiftiess fellow es Sem Ashby. Ove day Tommy Cruse inyited the whole of Montana to his wedding, und the whole of Montana came. Tommy nad ar for open house and free drinks with every salcon in Helena. Consequently the night my got married the whole male p lation got drunk, and {it took a w sober the ticn, Statexmen and Politicians, From the Chicago Post. "he said oracular! s and more statesmen. She looked at him adrairingly, as if won- dering how one man could know so much. “What's the difference between a s man and a politician, Edward?” she asked at last. “The difference?” he ex ates- rimed. “Yes,” she replied quict! “Oh, yes, of course—the differer sald in an ea offhand way. “The dif- ah—eh—, Why, you ought to know that. But I'm afraid I don’t,” I cu know, I'm only a woman. ‘Of course, of cour: 3 “My idea,” she went on, hesitatingly, “would be that a statesinan was the one who didn't talk politics on the street or at returned, inappropriate times and places and didn’t try to make a foghorn of himscif y time a political subje a under discussion, while a “I—I think you're right, he int -rrupted, and somehow he couldn't help wondering had whether sh shot at him. all the rest of the das been taking a long range the Tw luy’t iv ‘What! You in it! If lw